bellucci's

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

“Ohhh…” I kissed her neck as I ran my fingers along her crack. So soft, so smooth. I slid my hand around her hip and ran my fingers through her soft pussy hair. She pulled her head back and gave me a surprised look but didn’t stop me. I think she even spread her legs a bit as I slipped a trembling finger between her moist labia. Warmest, softest most heavenly place ever.

“That’s it…that’s it. Deeper. Go deeper.” Carol’s head was thrown back and her long red hair reached down to her Venus dimples. “Okay…good…” Carol’s voice was more relaxed and her hips started to push her ass back onto my cock. “Jim…fuck me now. Fuck me hard. Pull my hair and fuck me hard.” Carol’s voice was matter of fact in her demands.